The Dark Tower Affair
by Solo's Girl
Summary: Strange things are going on in the Tower of London and missing agents are only the beginning. Ravens are not the only birds it would seem to have taken up residence. Re-post for Halloween.
1. Chapter 1

Written By: Solo's Girl

**Chapter 1**

"**A Raven is a Raven and a THRUSH is a THRUSH…"**

**London.**

He knelt down and put his hand on his partner's shoulder. No movement. The agent carefully laid his gun on the stone rooftop and turned the other man over. He felt his skin crawl. The once handsome face was scratched almost beyond recognition. It was no longer possible to tell what color his hair was for it was now blood red. The two familiar deep brown eyes had been...He turned quickly and grabbed his mid-section as his stomach could no longer take the site.

Wiping his hand across his mouth, he took off his jacket and gently wrapped the other man's head with it. He put a hand to the dead man's shoulder once more.

"They'll pay for this," he said, "If I have to spend my entire life hunting them down...Those dirty bas..."

He never finished his sentence. The same menace that had taken the life of his partner swooped down on him. He grabbed his gun, aimed and fired. But another flew in from behind, then another and another. The agent made it to his feet, firing his weapon as he fought off the vicious attack. But there were too many. He swung one arm out to bat them away the other protecting his face. He backed up. A few feet more. More. More.

Suddenly there was no longer a protective wall behind him. He saw his life flash by as he plummeted off the tower. There was a no sound, no moan. Just a cold deadly silence and two eyes staring blankly across the grass.

**U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters, New York City.**

Alexander Waverly looked over the report. He made a heavy sigh and closed the folder. The U.N.C.L.E. Chief gave his eye a hard rub. A quick glance at his watch told him that his two best agents were late. He stood and walked to the window.

The pneumatic door hissed open. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, or what was left of them, made their way slowly to the conference table. The two men looked as if they had been run over by something, then it backed up to see what it hit. Bruised and bandaged, they had found the arms-dealers stronghold, destroyed it and made their way back to New York. But their escape had not an easy one this time. Sometimes THRUSH didn't look too bad when up against a single psycho. The two men made their way to their seats.

Waverly turned quickly, looked at his watch and scowled.

"You're late gentlemen," he said gruffly.

"Sorry, sir," Napoleon said glancing at Illya, "Medical didn't…."

"Sit down Gentlemen," Waverly said taking his seat, motioning for them to sit.

Napoleon and Illya sat down quickly, feeling a bit like school boys about to receive a reprimand, and exchanged confused glances. Waverly slid their Intel folders to the men and they opened them looking over the information.

"Five agents?" Kuryakin said, "Did they manage to get any information back to.."

"No...Four agents, four good men, all dead, one missing. No leads, no clues. Only the physical evidence of what happened to the four but no why.." Waverly's words were hard and cold.

The Chief stood up and walked once more to the window. Solo and Kuryakin looked at one another. The two agents looked back at their boss. Illya saw the elder man rub his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. They heard Waverly clear this throat and watched him turn back to them. Napoleon noticed what looked like a tear in the old man's eye.

"Things have gotten so bad," Waverly continued, "They have had to close the Tower off to Tourist. The Ravens have always been very docile, an intricate part of the Towers history and folklore. I believe there is more than one bird occupying the grounds. I am sending the two of you to find out just what is going on. I am relying on you both to put an end to whatever THRUSH is doing….Dismissed, gentlemen."

The two agents were stiff and sore but ready to do whatever their boss wanted. They took their folders and started towards the door. But both agents turned back to their Mentor.

"Mr. Waverly," Napoleon said hesitantly, "Is there anything we can do…"

The elder U.N.C.L.E. Chief looked at the concern on his Agents' faces.

"Perhaps for you personally, sir?" Illya added.

Waverly looked at the men. His gruff exterior changed. He sat down at the table.

"Where you gentlemen have THRUSH to deal with," Waverly said, "I have a much more difficult task to attend to. One of the Agents killed is the God-son of one of our own men. I have to give him the news….Good luck Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin…." Waverly had started to say something else but stopped.

"We'll be careful, sir," Kuryakin said looking at the elder man.

The two agents turned once again and walked out the door to get ready for their mission.

"Illya, did you notice something strange that just happened?" Solo asked.

"Something besides our boss almost in tears?" Kuryakin replied.

They stopped and looked at one another.

"Yeah….He called us both "Mr.". It's the first time that has ever happened. He reserves that honor for his top people…" Napoleon looked back towards the conference room.

"Then we better not screw this up," Illya said, a slight smile on his lips.

Napoleon smiled also and they started up the hallway once more.

Mr. Waverly took a deep breath and sighed. It had to be done. He reached over and pressed a button on the console. There was a low whine and a click as the other party picked up.

"Yes Alexander, what is it?" Bill Del Floria said.

"Bill, can you close up shop for a while and come to my office?"

"On my way," the U.N.C.L.E. front man said.

It was still dark when the agents arrived in London. It had been a fairly uneventful flight. Napoleon flirted whenever he wasn't asleep and Kuryakin half expected to find one of the stewardesses tucked under his blanket when they landed. Solo yawned and stretched the stiffness from his back. He gave his partner a nudge.

Kuryakin's eyes popped open wide. It was never a good idea to wake the Russian from a sound sleep, but so few of his rest were actually sound. Solo was ready for a possible attack. Illya pressed his hands to his face and yawned. He looked at his partner.

The men looked out of the plane as it flew over the city. Once landed, they secured their hotel room and radioed in that they had arrived. After a quick check of their equipment, they headed for the famous Tower of London.

The two men circled the outer wall of the impressive edifice trying to find the best way to get in. A noise caught their attention and both men flattened themselves against the wall. Two of the tower guards came around the corner and passed within feet of the U.N.C.L.E. agents. They disappeared around another corner.

Napoleon and Illya looked at one another.

"Guards that alert..It has to Be THRUSH," Napoleon whispered with a smile.

Illya nodded in agreement. They edged around the wall. Nothing. The Russian thought hard trying to think of everything he had read about the tower on the plane. He snapped his finger a few times to get Solo's attention and motioned for him to follow. They made their way to Traitor's Gate.

After a quick assessment of the gates workings, it was easy for them to work the lock and with great care, they opened it enough to gain entrance..to the tower dungeon. Solo shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, we're in anyway," he said.

The Rack, manacles on the walls, long wooden rows holding a variety of whips, maces and other devices filled the room. One wall was lined with a long row of highly polished, extremely sharp axes, battle axes, hurlbats, halberds and throwing axes.

Both men, purely out of reflex pulled their heads down closer to their shoulders as they made their way cautiously through the room. Napoleon glanced up. He stopped cold in his tracks. Illya ran into his partner and looked up as well.

Hanging above their heads, illuminated by torch light coming thru a small opening from the hall was a heavy iron barred cage. What was left of a body sat legs and arms draped over the bars. The face damaged beyond recognition.

"An eighteenth century prop?" Illya asked hesitantly.

"Only one problem," Solo said, "Eighteenth century prisoners didn't wear three piece suites.."

Solo looked down below the cage and saw a large dark spot. He knelt down to examine it. He took out his lighter and struck up the flame, holding it towards the dark spot. Illya knelt down beside him.

"Blood," Kuryakin said, his fingers cautiously touched the liquid, "And still warm. He bled to death and just within the last hour or so."

Napoleon picked up something lying just within the edge of the blood pool. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the yellow card off.

"Donald Tomlinson..We found our missing agent," he said.

The men stood up. Napoleon laid the card on a small table nearby. He and Illya were more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

The large wooden door creaked loudly as they opened it enough to get out. The faint glow of torch-light gave the hall a spooky feeling. The musty smell, the cold stones surrounded them like a bad dream. Illya suddenly jumped. His sharp eyes darted around the hallway.

"Did you hear that?" he said.

Napoleon stopped and listened. He didn't hear anything. Solo shook his head. They walked softly up the hallway. This time it was Solo who stopped. Something had moved across the hallway ahead of them.

"If THRUSH is trying psychological tactics…" he said.

"It's working," Illya added.

Both men smiled. They were U.N.C.L.E. agents for Heaven's sake. Things like this were not supposed to get to them. Step by step, they made their way to the end of the hall. Solo pulled his weapon and looked cautiously around the corner. No light, nothing but more cold air. He took a deep breath.

"Looks clear enough," he said, "Let's go.." He waited for the okay from his partner. "Illya..Did you hear me?...Illya?"

Napoleon looked behind him to realize that his partner had vanished. Even in the low light from the torches the Russian was nowhere to be seen. Solo pulled at his collar. He started to turn around when something struck him in the forehead. It was the last thing he remembered.

Kuryakin pressed tight against the wall looking for the triggering device. Using the flame from his lighter, he tried to find his way out. Finally he resigned himself to following the narrow corridor. He would stop and lean his face to the cold stone, listening for any sounds from the hallway just on the other side. On he went.

At times, Kuryakin was afraid he would become forever wedged in the wall as it became narrower. Then it would suddenly open up, turn and become narrow once again. He had to flick off the lighter before it burned his hand. Once it cooled he lit it again and continued on. The corridor opened once more but this time onto a dead end. He looked around the opening and spotted a small door.

Illya got down on his knees and looked thru the antique keyhole. Something was blocking his view. He pressed his hands against the wooden door. It budged but didn't open. The Russian removed his pocket knife and tried to pry it open. He tried to refrain from coughing as dust and dirt filled the air. The door finally gave way. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled it back. He would make it thru but not by much.

"Now I know how Alice felt," he whispered to himself as he crawled through.

A clicking sound filled his ears. Halfway thru the door, he looked up at the two THRUSH guards holding their weapons on him. Illya smiled.

"I don't suppose you've seen a White Rabbit, have you?" he said.

The men grabbed his arms pulling him with a jolt through the door. Kuryakin cringed as his body scrapped against the doorframe. They eased the grip on his arms temporarily to shoulder their weapons, but the quick reflexes of the agent had them both incapacitated within seconds. He grabbed both weapons, hid the bodies behind a large tapestry and walked quietly across the room.

Napoleon coughed and rubbed his hand over his sore forehead. If THRUSH has to clobber us like that I wish they would hit the side or back of the head and not the face, he thought smiling to himself. He slowly opened his eyes to the faint light of a small lantern hanging near the door.

A rush of cold air came over him. He rubbed his arms to try and get warm. That was when he realized he had been deprived of his jacket and shirt, left only in his t-shirt. He glanced down. And his pants! He quickly pulled the dirty blanket next to him across his lap. He was sitting in a thick pile of straw in nothing but his underwear.

The smell from the blanket was disgusting but at least it was warmer than sitting exposed in the cold. He looked around the small room and realized he was in one of the tower's turrets. One window but it was sealed up. He wrapped the blanket around him and started towards the heavy wooden door. He was shackled. Napoleon walked back to the straw pile and sat down.

Suddenly the door opened. Two guards walked in. One tossed Napoleon another blanket. He quickly discarded the on dirty one. While the other guard checked his ankle shackle and made sure the window was escape proof, Solo's eyes drifted towards the open door. He did a double take.

The uniform was THRUSH, but the body in it was definitely not one of their typical recruits. The heavy boots tapered in just above the ankle. The dark blue jumpsuit was lean and fit the shapely form in it like a glove. The belt secured around the tiny waist. He could see her jet-black hair pulled up and one of the officer's caps donned her head instead of one of those stupid berets She had her back to the door. Solo stared at her. If she was half as beautiful from the front as she was from the back…

The two guards walked out and shut the door.

"Hey no fair," Napoleon shouted, then quickly put his hands over his mouth. His face blushed.

The female officer heard him and smiled. You're not so bad yourself Mr. Solo, she thought.

Illya had made his way through the tower across the connecting walkway and into another section of buildings. He pressed himself into a narrow section of the hallway and held his breath as a small squad of THRUSH guards made their way up the hall. He heard them stop.

"No other intruders that we can find sir," one of the guards said.

"Keep looking," another voice said, "It is highly unlikely that U.N.C.L.E. sent Napoleon Solo here by himself. He may have the Russian chap, Kuryakin, with him. But whoever is with him I want them caught."

"Sir, yes sir," the guard said.

Illya heard the movement of boots down the hallway then the sound of a creaking door.

"Well, Carter?"

"No-one else has been found, Mr. Greenbaum. But my men are still searching."

"Of couse..Just like the two who were patrolling the outer wall," Greenbaum said, "I hope that once we dispose of Solo, U.N.C.L.E. will stop sending their men to interfere with us. If their top man can't stop us, no one can."

The two men walked down the hallway and right past the hidden agent. Once it was clear, Illya slipped from his hiding place and went in the direction of the two men. Staying far enough behind not to be seen his sharp ears listened for their footsteps echoing in the hall.

"THRUSH is taking a big risk holding this operation here," Greenbaum said.

"You said you needed a strategically located building, heavily constructed, with plenty of space for your equipment…"

"Yes, but not a major tourist attraction to boot," Greenbaum said.

Carter smiled and made a low laugh.

"But that's what makes the Tower of London the perfect spot. Location, sturdy and with enough superstitions and ghost stories surrounding it…Well, it's just perfect. When the birds started going crazy and attacking people, we knew they would shut it down until a cause was found…."

"You just didn't think they would call U.N.C.L.E. in on the case."

"A minor annoyance, Mr. Greenbaum, I can assure you," Carter sneered, "Besides once the machines are up and running…"

Illya heard a door open then close.

Kuryakin stopped outside the door and listened. He could hear a loud screeching sound coming from the other side of the door. It made his skin crawl. He had heard sounds like that before. Another sound caught his attention and he ducked into the shadows as a THRUSH officer walked up the hall. He felt a knot in his throat as he looked at her. She adjusted her officer's cap and went into the room.

To his amazement, the screeching sounds seemed to calm down. He could hear talking, but could not make out what they were saying. The sounds of laughter followed. The door opened and the men walked out.

"That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen," Greenbaum said, "How does she do that?"

"Her perfume," Carter said, "It has a calming effect on the birds. Unlike the spray we have been using to train them to attack, it is a soothing scent. Raven is perfect for this job."

"Raven?"

"Just her nickname," Carter said, "One of the men called her that as a joke and it stuck. That black hair and her darker attitude, it fits."

"How long has she been with THRUSH?"

"Since she was twelve," Carter said, "I personally, ah, inducted her into the organization. A tactic we used to get her father to join THRUSH. It worked too."

Greenbaum looked at the THRUSH with an almost disgusted look on his face.

"A twelve year old child?" Greenbaum said almost sick.

"We do whatever we need to do," Carter said looking at his expression, "She was lucky that the order wasn't issued to kill her afterward. Since then she has been raised, trained and her "talents" used by THRUSH to great extent."

Greenbaum and Carter walked off down the hallway. Illya moved out of the shadows and went to the door. He carefully checked the door latch, and pushed against the heavy wooden structure. He could see the shapely young woman holding one of the hooded birds, gently stoking its breast feathers. She continued looking at the bird as the agent came into the room.

"Took you long enough," she said, "You U.N.C.L.E. agents can be exasperatingly slow sometimes."

She turned and looked at Kuryakin.

"And you would be…..?" she said softly.

"Illya Kuryakin," came the reply, "And you are?"

"A THRUSH Officer," she said, "We knew there was more than one of you here. Agent Solo is awaiting interrogation as we speak."

"He won't tell THRUSH anything," Illya said.

"I'll be the one interrogating him," she cooed, walking towards him.

"He'll babble like a baby," Illya said under his breath.

The woman heard him and laughed. She had an intoxicating laugh, soft and lilting. Illya looked at her. He felt someone step up behind him. He raised his hands, the rifles were taken from his shoulder and he was escorted to back down to the dungeon.

Napoleon lay quietly in the warm straw half asleep, half awake. He closed his eyes at the sounds of approaching feet. A brief discussion outside the door and he heard the key turn in the lock. The door opened.

His eyes were open to slits as he watched the approaching THRUSH. The figure knelt down in the straw next to him. He felt a soft hand brush against his hair. He opened his eyes and looked up at the woman as she smiled at him.

She was caught entirely off guard by his impish grin. Her thumb caressed the dimpled chin. Solo reached up and took her hand giving it a gentle kiss, first on the top and then he turned it over and kissed the palm. She swooned slightly. This was not what she was expecting at all. Napoleon sat up, careful to keep the blanket covering his body. His fingers clipped her chin and he stared into her dark eyes.

"Not to sound corny," he said leaning forward, kissing the tip of her nose, "But what is a beautiful bird like you," he kissed her cheek, "Doing in a chicken outfit like this?" He pulled her lips to his.

The woman found herself suddenly swept away by the passion of the moment. She sat back and looked at him. She had seen his file. She knew he was a player. But what a kiss! She tried to shake it off. She was a THRUSH. She was the one in control right now. Or was supposed to be anyway.

"I ah, have a few questions for you Mr. Solo," she said trying to sound like an Officer.

Napoleon drew his knees up and folded his arms across them. He playfully bit at his thumb.

"Okay, let me see. I'm six feet even, a Capricorn, my favorite foods are…."

She gave the agent a sharp push back with her foot.

"Shut up," she shouted.

Napoleon looked at her innocently, his best "what-did-I-do" expression on his face.

"Alright but if I shut up how am I supposed to answer your questions?"

Her face began to burn red with rage. She clenched her fist tight. Suddenly one hand swung to the side and Solo saw her long, sharp nails. The "Raven's Talons" as the others had begun to call them. She swiped her hand at Solo catching the bare skin of his arm he had raised it in self-defense. He felt the sharp nails dig into his skin and cringed at the pain. The gentle sting and he felt the warmth of his blood tricked down his arm. He looked at the wound. I have to keep her distracted, he thought. Solo looked back at the woman. The agents slowly slipped off his t-shirt, his broad chest expanding, reacting to the cold air, and wrapped it around the torn skin. He saw her expression soften. Perfect!

Napoleon suddenly shot his feet out, catching her off guard. The woman went down on the cold stone floor. She became infuriated at this new development. Raven lunged at him, pinning him down in the straw. He smiled up at her.

"Oh you're one of those type women," he said smiling slyly.

"What type?"

"Take control..Fierce..Strong..On top, so to speak."

The palm of her hand caught the side of his face with tremendous force. He shook it off. His arms suddenly wrapped around her and he pulled her body tight against his. She struggled to get free of his hold. The woman started to cry out, but Napoleon's full sensuous lips took hers once more. She felt his arm loosen and his hands caressed her.

"If you're looking for the keys," she sighed as he kissed her neck, "You're wasting your time."

"I not looking for the keys," he whispered in his soft velvet voice, "Even if I found them, I would throw them out the window."

His hands unbuckled her belt and his fingers softly pressed into her hips. She held his face, lips caressing lips, sighs and gasps of pure pleasure the only thing escaping at the moment. Before the woman knew what was happening she found his hands caressing her bare shoulders, slowly pushing her uniform away.

"This uniform really isn't you," he whispered, "I see you in a form-fitting evening gown, maybe a few sequins, a fur of some kind draped over your slender shoulders." His lips caressed her neck and shoulders as he spoke.

Her hands pressed against his chest as she bit playfully at his lip.

"I thought they took your weapon away from you," she cooed, a blush on her cheek.

"Only the cold metal one," Solo said, giving her a playful wink.

His hands reached up behind her head and he pulled the pins holding her beautiful hair up. He gasped at her sheer beauty as the black hair fell on her bare shoulders and softly framed her face. He tenderly ran his fingers thru the silky locks. His thumb brushed her cheek. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I can't get over how breathtakingly beautiful you are," he said truthfully, "I have never seen a woman like you before. And that is not a lie." He smiled. "You are the closest thing to pure, absolute beauty I have ever seen."

"I don't know about the pure part," she said

He covered them with the blanket and they slipped down into the straw.

Kuryakin was lead back to the dungeon. He had forgotten how cold it was down there. One of the THRUSH guards turned a small wheel on the wall and a set of manacles lowered from the ceiling. He forced Illya to step onto a small platform beneath them. One of the guards removed the agent's shoes and socks then fastened two iron cuffs around his ankles. His hands were placed in the iron bands above his head. He saw the guard turn the wheel once more and the Kuryakin felt his body pulled taunt. The pain was incredible.

The door opened at Carter walked in. He looked at the agent and gave a nod to one of the guards. Illya felt the man take hold of his shirt and jacket ripping them straight up the back. Carter walked over to the wooden rack and examined the various implements at his disposal. He picked up a small whip and walked over to the agent.

"You would think that with five dead agents, U.N.C.L.E. would stop while they were ahead," he said.

Illya looked at the whip. It was small but extremely dangerous. The ends of the three leather strips were tired in knots, the prongs of small metal balls protruded from the ends of each. He had been beaten and cut, battered and even put to interrogation by fire before, but as of yet, he had never met the lash.

"U.N.C.L.E. will never stop as long as people like you are still allowed to breath," Kuryakin said.

The sting of the leather was nothing compare to the pain inflicted by the metal prongs. They tore in deep and held only to be forcibly ripped back out. Again and again he felt the barbs penetrate his back. His body was jerking at the pain.

Carter stepped back and wiped the agent's blood splatter from his own face.

"Let him stay there awhile," he said, "The birds will need fresh prey in a few hours."

The guard tightened the wheel once more, but the Russian had passed out already. The two guards and Carter walked out of the dungeon.

"This is the damndest interrogation I have ever conducted," she sighed laying her face against Solo's chest.

Steam rose from their bodies into the cold air of the tower. His hand once more caressed her soft hair and he pulled her into another kiss. He smiled at her.

The woman found her discarded uniform and quickly dressed. She pulled her hair back and fastened it up once more. Napoleon smiled as she had a bit of trouble getting the front of her uniform button. She sat down and slipped one of the black leather boots on. The woman sighed and leaned her head back as Solo's finger's traced the center of her back from her neck down.

Raven looked towards the door. She turned; quickly giving the handsome agents lips the pleasure of her own once more.

"Watch the door," she said.

Napoleon looked towards the door. The small window was still closed. No one was watching. From the corner of his eye, he saw her slip the heel of the other boot away and took something out. She closed the compartment and put the boot on.

Raven turned and took Solo's hands. He felt something cold in his fingers.

"I don't know where you got these," she said, "They took your partner to the dungeon. The guard outside the door is about your size so his uniform should fit." She kissed his cheek.

The woman stood up and went to the door. Napoleon heard her exchange words with the guard. He looked down at his hand and opened it.

Two cast-iron keys lay in his palm.

He had a friend in the camp. And one he intended not to forget.

He quickly unlocked the ankle shackle and made his way to the door.

Who knows what they were doing to his partner in the dungeon. He had to get there quick.

Quicker then he could possibly imagine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Written By: Solo's Girl**

**Chapter 2**

"**They Are Not Alone."**

Solo gave his hand a hard shake and looked at the bruised knuckles. The THRUSH's jaw was harder than he had expected. The agent laid the body in the straw pile and covered it with the blanket. He flipped the collar of the jacket up, held tight to the rifle and started towards the dungeon. Several other THRUSH guards passed him, but all they saw was the uniform and kept going.

"One moment," Greenbaum shouted.

Napoleon stopped in his tracks.

"Where are you going?"

"I received a signal that another UNCLE agent was spotted outside the wall. I was ordered to come at once," Napoleon said, "Sir."

"Very well. Go on," Greenbaum replied.

Solo snapped into a quick trot, the THRUSH weapon held tight in his hand. He was finally at the ground level when several other guards spotted him. Solo took a deep breath and with his most authoritative voice, told them of the "agent" outside. He quickly told each man what position to take and shook his head as they followed his orders.

He went down a narrow sloping passageway. It opened out into a long hallway. This Solo recognized immediately. He started down the hallway to the dungeon door. He took the touch from the bracket beside the door. Slowly he pushed the door open.

"Oh god," Napoleon said.

He ran in, shutting the door and bolting it behind him. Solo ran to his partner and examined the bloodied back. Illya jumped at his touch.

"Sorry Illya," Solo said, "Damn those bloody bastards." He cringed at the site of his partners back.

Working with the master-key he managed to get Kuryakin's feet free. After careful study he found the mechanism that lowered the manacles. He slowly let the Russian's body slide to the floor. Napoleon heard his friend moan in agony as his body folded on the floor. He ran over and removed the iron cuffs from Illya's hands.

Napoleon lifted his partner up and held him. He gave the Russian's face a gentle tap.

"Illya….Illya can you hear me?"

Two blue eyes fluttered open and looked up at the American. He mumbled something in Russian and Solo smiled.

"Hey I got here as quick as I could," Solo said. A strong wash of guilt overtook him.

He gave the blond hair a tussle and tried to pool his thoughts. He had to get Illya someplace safe and go on with the mission alone. How much more would Raven help him? Would she help him? First things first.

Napoleon took the end of Illya's tie and began to roll it up towards his face. He took the balled up tie and put it in his partner's mouth.

"Bite down on this," Solo said.

Illya was weak but bit down on the cloth. He moaned in pain as Napoleon stood him up and draped him over his shoulders. One arm firmly around Illya's legs the other clutching his arm, Solo carried him out of the dungeon and down the dark hallway. He found an unused room and put the injured agent inside on a small sofa styled lounge. He found a few blankets and once he was sure that the cuts on the blonds back were no longer bleeding he started towards the door.

"Nap…Napoleon.." Illya said weakly.

Solo returned to his partner.

"Illya don't talk," he said, "You need to rest.."

"Machines….some kind of machines to…." Kuryakin passed out.

Solo closed his eyes and said a prayer for his friend. He stood back up and went out the door, locking it behind him. He shifted the rifle on his shoulder once more and took off.

Illya drifted in and out of consciousness. He was awakened by the sounds of rustling fabric. A gentle hand began to stoke the back of his head. He stated to speak but was shushed. He relaxed at the tenderness of the hand on his hair and drifted back to sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep. His eyes fluttered open. The Russian yawned and shifted on the small lounge. He realized the pain in his back wasn't as bad now. He could actually feel something warm pressed to the bare flesh. Illya stated to look back over his shoulder when the soft hand once more pressed to his head. He sighed at the relief from the pain and dozed off once more.

Carter opened the door to the dungeon. Fury overtook him and despite his best effort, found it near impossible to slam the seventeenth century door. He shouted for the guards.

"What happened to Kuryakin?" he shouted, his voice rolling thru the hallway like thunder.

Napoleon stopped on the steps. He heard the voice and knew it would only be a matter of time before they found his partner. His sharp ears picked up the sounds of the guards running thru the hallway pounding on doors, trying to open various rooms. Then, the blood froze in his veins as he heard something else.

Terrified cries, the sounds of THRUSH rifles being dropped to the floor, boots pounding the stone floors and what sounded like….a lion's roar. Over this din he could hear Carter shouting at his men, calling the cowards back to their post. Several of the guards shot past Napoleon without so much as a glance.

"What is going on down there?" Greenbaum shouted from the upper level.

Napoleon was trapped between the two THRUSH officers. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and was pulled back into one of the many hidden passages. The stone wall closed. He pressed an ear to the wall and listened.

"What the hell is going on?" Greenbaum shouted.

Carter stopped in front of him on the steps where only moments before, Solo had stood.

"I'm not sure," Carter replied, "The idiots were doing a search of some of the lower chambers. They must have set off so sort of special effects mechanism. There was a bright flash of light and some loud growling sound. They ran like scared rabbits. I'll have them all shot if it happens again."

"Did they find anything?"

"That's the problem," Carter said, "They didn't. They were searching for Kuryakin. He got out somehow."

"You IDIOT!" Greenbaum shouted, "Have you checked to see if Solo is still in the tower?"

Both THRUSH officers turned and headed back up the steps towards the tower.

Napoleon made a sigh of relief. He looked behind him to thank is rescuer, but no-one was there. His hand reached into the pocket of the uniform and found a pack of matches. Striking one he found himself alone in the passageway. Napoleon felt a chill run down his spine.

Slowly the agent made his way through the dark corridor. He had gone about fifty yards when he found a small wooden hook protruding from the wall. Solo couldn't help but smile. He shrugged his shoulders and took hold of it.

"If it works at headquarters…."he said an amused tone in his voice. He turned the hook.

There was a soft grinding of stone-on-stone. Solo watched for the wall to open. But to his dismay the wall did not begin to open. The floor did. He tried to keep his footing as the gap below him widened. He glanced down into the pit. No sloping walkway to slide down on, No hidden staircase, just a straight drop to the bottom. The agent clung to the hook with everything he had in him.

It took some maneuvering, but Solo managed to hold on and turn the hook back to its original position. He made a sigh of relief as the floor began to slide back into place. Once it was secured again, he released the hook and started on his way once more.

Napoleon made his way cautiously through the passageway. His eyes spotted a light moving ahead of him a few yards. He quickly but silently tried to catch up with it. Solo came around a corner and found a single candle sitting on the stone floor but no-one was around. He knelt down to look at it, when he saw a faint light coming thru the cracks at the base if the wall. The way out.

He blew out the candle and pressed his hands gently against the wall. It moved slowly open.

Solo found himself in a storage room of some sort. Crate after crate bearing the hideous THRUSH bird were stacked everywhere. Some open, most however still closed up tight. He looked to see if any of them said what was in them. Nothing. He moved through the room searching as he went. He came around the end of a line of crates.

A small console of some sort was being set up at the far end of the room. He walked over and looked at the blueprint. Another folder was lying on the console top. Solo reached over and flipped it open. He read the specs, worked the equations out in his own head to verify the plausibility and came to the same conclusions as the THRUSH scientist had. But his big question was why?

Greenbaum and Carter along with a group of guards came to the top of the tower. No-one on duty. They pressed the door open. A bone chilling rush of cold air blew over them. Carter motioned for the guards to go in and check for Solo.

Two of the men held their guns at the ready as they approached the straw pile. They poked at the blanket covering a figure beneath. One of the men gave the body a push with his foot.

"I think he froze to death, sir," the guard said.

Carter walked in and over to the men. He knelt down next to the body under the blanket and gave it a hard shove.

"Up Solo!" he shouted.

Cater grabbed the blanket and pulled it back. The Guards started back towards the door. Carter gasped in terror at the sight, falling back on the floor. Greenbaum stood, unable to move, pressed against the door.

The body beneath the blanket was badly decayed. It was as if he had been dead for a year or two. His THRUSH tags still hanging around his neck. The corners of his id card protruded through the thin flesh around his throat. Even in the grips of death, the body had a pose and expression of sheer terror to its continence.

Cater backed out of the room on his hands as quickly as he could, unable to find his legs until he was out of the tower room. He looked at Greenbaum. The guards looked at one another. They were ready to drop this entire assignment.

"What the hell is going on around here?" Greenbaum finally managed to say.

He looked at Carter and pointed a shaky finger at him. Carter stood up. He looked at the faces staring in his direction.

"What?" he said slowly.

The THRUSH walked over to the stained glass window and looked at his reflection. His once dark brown hair was now streaked grey at the temples and the front. He ran his fingers over his hair.

"You still think this place was such a good idea?" Greenbaum asked.

Napoleon shoved the folders inside the uniform jacket and slowly opened the door. After making sure the corridor was clear he started out staying close to the wall. The sounds of approaching feet in the hallway made Solo look for another means of escape. He tried several of the doors in the hallway only to find them locked. The sound of a lock clicking sent him into an attack position holding the rifle at the ready.

Raven looked cautiously into the hallway. She smiled at him and motioned the agent into the room.

"Any port in a storm," Solo said as he went quickly into the room.

"Did you find your partner?" she asked.

"What was left of him, yes," Solo said. His expression changed to one of guilt.

The woman stepped up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"What's wrong?

"I was just thinking of what he went through," Napoleon said, "While I was pandering to my own lust. He is the best partner I have ever had. I should have…."

He felt the woman press the side of her face between his broad shoulders.

"You UNCLE agents really live by that code, don't you?"

Solo turned and looked at her.

"Yes we do," he said, "We are trained to protect each other while doing our jobs. An agent is expected to lay down his life for UNCLE and his partner. Unlike THRUSH, we can't simply dismiss an injured comrade in arms as no big deal."

Solo heard a soft sob. He looked at her as she turned away. He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her tremble. She tried to pull her emotions back in check.

"When I saw your file photo," she said, "I thought all that was there was a handsome face. You really have something special about you, Mr. Solo. Something that I'm not use to dealing with."

"It's called decency," Napoleon said, not being sarcastic, but brutally honest, "You have your moments as well, you know. THRUSH doesn't own you completely."

She turned and looked at him, tears still sitting in her eyes. She smiled and gently kissed his cheek.

"By the way," Solo said, "I forgot to thank you for pulling me into the passageway."

"I didn't pull you into any passageway!"

"Of course you did….Didn't you?"

"No I didn't"

"Then who did?"

The woman looked at him. Solo felt a chill.

Illya opened his eyes once more. He had heard the noise in the hallway but had been to out of it to care what it was. The room was warm and he realized that a fire was going in the large fireplace. He pushed his shirtsleeve back and carefully looked at his watch. They had been there nearly nine hours now. He wondered where Napoleon was and more importantly if he was safe.

The Russian felt a slight twinge in his back as he sat up. All things considered he felt fairly well. Stiff and a bit sore but the intense pain had somehow subsided. He reached up his hands and pressed them to his face to try and wipe away the sleepy feeling. One hand rubbed the back of his neck and he looked down at his clothes. He had just bought that suit.

Kuryakin looked towards the full length mirror across from him, He looked at his reflection then down at his clothes. His trousers were still intact but he somehow was dressed in a beautiful silk shirt. The soft white shirt had large flowing sleeves. A long cord looped through several neatly sewn holes and held the front of the shirt closed. The ends of the cords hung lose instead of being tied, the sigh of a scamp. His hands moved over the cloth.

He stood up and walked towards the mirror. It had to be Napoleon. He brought him in the room, removed his torn clothes and this was the only thing he could find to put on him. Illya looked in the mirror. He saw someone else's reflection in the distance behind him. He spun around.

Nothing. He was the only one in the room. He turned back to the mirror. He was the only one in it. He shook his head.

"Must be an effect from the loss of blood," he said low to himself.

Something flashed quickly in the fire-light. Illya's reflexes were still a bit slow, not too much. He looked back towards the small lounge. Illya pushed his blond hair back from his forehead and walked back to the small sofa.

Leaning against the head end was a beautiful bejeweled sword. He picked it up. Perfect balance, the workmanship was exquisite. Having been relieved of his UNCLE implements, the Russian took the sword and started towards the door. If he had learned anything from his friends the Gypsies, it was never question the acts of a greater power.

"So, are you going to tell me what is going on?" Solo said, "Or….."

There was a pounding on the door. Raven motioned for Solo to hide. Once he was out of sight she opened the door. Carter and Greenbaum stood panting for breath. She looked startled at Carter's hair.

"We have to get everything in place by tonight," Greenbaum said, "I want to get this operation underway and then get the hell out of here."

"Get your birds ready," Carter said, "We will have their part of the operation ready in an hour."

She nodded at the men. They turned and started to walk away. Greenbaum walked back to her. He looked at the woman. Solo quickly moved back into his hiding place.

"You haven't seen either of the UNCLE agents have you?" he asked softly brushing one finger against her cheek.

"Solo is in the tower isn't he?" she said, "And one of the guards said the other was in the dungeon.."

"That's right, they were in those areas," the THRUSH said, "But the Russian has disappeared and Solo…"

The woman's eyes widened.

"He's dead?" she asked.

Greenbaum looked at her. He turned and started to walk away. She saw him stop, his back still turned towards her.

"You do know what the penalty for betraying THRUSH is, don't you my dear?" he asked.

She felt a chill run down her spine.

"Yes."

"Good….Just making sure what side you were really on."

She quickly changed into her THRUSH uniform. Solo sat on the edge of the bed and watched her as she pulled her hair back and positioned her officer's cap. He smiled sheepishly as she placed her gun in the belt holster. There is just something about a woman who is heavily armed he thought.

Napoleon walked over to the door and opened it enough to peak out. He felt Raven step up behind him as he closed it once more. He smiled and looked at her. She reached up taking his face with her hands and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Solo took a deep breath and looked at her.

"Whatever happens," she said, "Stay out of the mist."

Solo looked down at her. He realized too late that her gun was missing from the holster. He felt a sharp hard thud on the back of his head. She stepped over him and caught the attention of two guards in hallway.

Illya was making his way cautiously through the empty hall. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. There should be guards on duty. There should be motion of some sort. But he was the only one there. A low moan caught his attention.

He stepped back and saw two guards, Napoleon in tow, making their way up the hallway. No-one else was around. The Russian clutched the sword tightly in both hands.

Doing his best Errol Flynn he leapt out in front of the guards. Thru his pain, Napoleon smiled. One of the guards let Solo go and grabbed his rifle. With one swing, Illya cut the gun in half. The sword was unusually easy to use, not as light as fencing foil, but still very maneuverable. He swung it once more and caught the guards arm taking a long slice from his uniform sleeve. The second guard relinquished his grip on Solo and went to help his partner.

Napoleon saw Illya skillfully swing the massive sword, thrust, parry, thrust. He watched as one of the men made the mistake of trying to get the sword away from the Russian. Illya stepped back, made a spin in the man's direction the sword flashed in the low light of the hallway. The THRUSH cried out in agony and clutched his arm. Napoleon saw the guards bloodied hand laying on the stone floor of the hall..

Solo grabbed the gun from the injured guard. By now the noise had attracted many more THRUSH to the scene. Napoleon opened fire, taking out as many as he could. He grabbed the other gun and continued to fire. They just kept coming. He had to duck a few times to avoid Illya's aim.

THRUSH after THRUSH fell to the floor, either by shot or parry. The Two U.N.C.L.E. agents held their ground. A guard managed to get hold of Solo pinning his arms behind him. Illya made a forceful thrust with the sword.

Kuryakin heard an agonizing cry of pain. The sword fell from his hand as he saw Napoleon shoved towards him. The Russian caught his partner. Solo slipped down in the blond's arms, down to his knees.

"Napoleon?"

Illya knelt down holding his partner. He looked down at his clothes. The brilliant white shirt was stained red. Napoleon's mouth dropped open as he fought to catch his breath. He looked up at his partner.

Once more Kuryakin looked down at the figure in his arms. A dark crimson color had begun to cover his partner's shirt and trousers. He saw the torn shirt cloth just above Solo's belt. Napoleon's eyes blinked and he said something low to his partner.

Illya lifted his bloodied hand to the side of Napoleon's face and pressed it close to his chest.

"Napoleon, I sorry," he whispered, "Oh god I am so sorry."

Solo reached up and touched his hand.

"Stay…stay out….of..mist…." Napoleon said slowly.

Solo's hand fell limp beside him.

For the first time in his career, Illya wept for a fellow agent.


	3. Chapter 3

Written By: Solo's Girl

**Chapter 3**

**"What's in a Name.."**

Raven came around the corner. The woman gasped and fell to her knees beside the agents. Her hand gently brushed Solo's hair back. He took a shaky breath and looked at her. She saw his hand pressed to his side, small streams of red running out between his fingers.

"Take him to the infirmary," she said to the guards.

One of the men walked up and clicked his gun into firing position. He placed the barrel on Napoleon's forehead.

"Not likely, sweetheart," he said in a cold harsh tone.

She stood up, pushing the gun away. Her hand caught him firm and hard across the face.

"I'm an officer dam you," she said, "You will take him to the doctor in the infirmary. NOW!"

The guard shouldered his weapon and with two others to help they got Solo up and started towards the makeshift infirmary rooms. The other guards surrounded Kuryakin. Raven picked up the sword and looked at the dark red stain on the blade. She brushed her fingertips across it and looked down at Illya.

The Russian let a single tear fall on his cheek. He took a deep shaky breath and his eyes cut up toward the woman. She looked at him, remembering what Solo had told her earlier about partners. She started to turn away when she saw something else in his eyes. Raven tilted her head slightly and looked at the blond.

Though his face wasn't showing it, she had the feeling that his eyes…were smiling.

The guards lifted Kuryakin up out of the floor. The woman stepped seductively up in front of the Russian lifting the sword point to his throat. She moved the blade slowly down his neck, his chest, finally catching it under the last cross tie of the shirt. With one motion she pulled it up cutting the ties.

"Take him to the cell next to the sanctuary," she said.

The guards smiled and dragged the agent down the hallway. Raven stood alone for a moment. She lifted the sword and wiped her fingertips once again over the red stain on the blade. She lifted her fingers to her face, took a sniff, and then cautiously tasted the substance.

"Very clever, gentlemen."

She turned and went to see about the birds.

Carter met Raven in the hallway.

"What the devil is going on?" he shouted.

She quickly told him about the confrontation between their men and the two agents.

"The Kuryakin tried to run one of our guards through with the sword, only to catch Solo instead," she said coolly, "I told them to take Solo to the Infirmary, but at the rate he was bleeding he probably didn't make it."

Cater smiled, a sick, sadistic, slimy smile. It made the woman's skin crawl.

"I was going to order Kuryakin's immediate execution," he said, "But I think we will hold off. Let him torture himself for awhile. Guilt can eat a man alive. Where is he?"

She pointed to the room they were standing in front of. Carter opened the door and walked in. He closed the door behind him.

Illya sat bound in a heavy wooden chair. His head low. He quickly glanced over at the man who had entered the room, and then his gaze returned to the floor.

"How does it feel, Agent Kuryakin? Killing your "brother-in-arms" I believe is what you U.N.C.L.E. people call them. You were supposed to protect him, but instead you ran him through…Does the Russian side of you blow it off, or does the U.N.C.L.E. side of you rip at your gut? Even if you live to get out of this, which is doubtful, you would have to stand in a court of inquiry with U.N.C.L.E."

Illya turned his face away. Carter grabbed a handful of blond hair and pulled his head back with a sharp snap. He looked into the steel blue eyes.

"I asked you a question, Agent Kuryakin," he shouted.

"It was an accident," he said slowly, his voice trembling, "I was trying to kill your guard. The coward used Napoleon as a shield..It was an accident..I swear."

Cater smiled. He let go of the prisoner. Illya sobbed as his head fell forward once more.

"Keep telling yourself that Kuryakin," Carter said, "But you'll never convince yourself."

Napoleon's body hung limp between the three guards. His long arms dangled down, his head tilted back over their arms as they carried him down the hall.

"Watch it will you," one of the men said, "Every time he swings this way, I get blood on my uniform."

The other two shook their heads.

"What if he never makes to the Infirmary?"

Two shots rang out. Two of the THRUSH guards dropped to the floor, taking Napoleon with them. He looked up at the man still holding his feet. One more shot and he fell. For a moment Napoleon just lay there. He had forgotten that he would go down with them. He loosened his grip on the two guns and sat up.

"Well at least you all match now," Solo said looking at the blood stained uniforms, "And that gentlemen is why you never carry a pistol in a back holster when carrying a prisoner."

The agent shook off the pain and got back to his feet. He tucked one of the small THRUSH pistols in his belt as he picked up the rifles. He looked down at his clothes, his fingers played briefly with the hole in the shirt and he finally found the gelatin pack attached inside. Solo gave a sigh of relief.

"Good idea of yours, Illya, packing these in our survival bags," he said, "These blood packs come in handy sometimes."

Napoleon found a small unlocked room and dragged the three dead THRUSHES inside. He opened the communicator pen and radioed in.

Greenbaum was coming up the hallway as Carter stepped out.

"I just received a message from THRUSH Central," Greenbaum said, "They want the device ready in three days. The remaining parts will be delivered tonight. Where are Solo and Kuryakin?"

"Solo is dead."

"Are you sure this time?" Greenbaum said sarcastically.

"Oh yes. Kuryakin killed him. By mistake of course," Carter said, "Kuryakin is in there." He nodded towards the door.

"You saw Kuryakin kill him?"

"Not personally no. But The Raven did. She said Solo bled to death."

The two THRUSH men walked into room with the Russian. Greenbaum saw the look of extreme pain and guilt in the agent's eyes. His body language, everything about Kuryakin's being showed signs of deep remorse.

"I want him taken to the tower," Greenbaum said.

"The tower? You mean the one…" Carter put his fingers against the grey hairs of his temple.

"Yes."

Two THRUSH guards shoved the blond agent sharply through the door of the tower room. He stumbled across the cobbled floor and landed with a thud in the straw, falling on something beneath it. He pushed himself away and looked at the body lying beneath.

The guard's body was pasty white from the cold. He had a large bruise on his face from where Solo had punched him earlier. His hands and feet tightly bound behind him and a gag in his mouth. Since Solo had relieved him of his THRUSH uniform, the poor man had laid there freezing in his underwear.

"Hey," Kuryakin shouted, "I ordered a single."

The guards outside the door looked confused. They had seen a dead body in there. They knew it. What was going on? They had seen his tags. He was dead, long dead. But here he was struggling to get up. It took a lot of moxie for them to come back into the tower room but they felt compelled to rescue their fellow guard.

They shut and locked the door leaving Kuryakin alone with his thoughts. He struggled with the iron cuffs trying to get out of them. Even his ever trusty lock pick didn't work. He slumped back in the straw and looked at his hands. His wrist were swollen again and bruised even more.

Kuryakin pulled his knees up to try and stay warm in the cold tower. He draped his cuffed hands over them and rested his face against his arms. He had to think of some way to get out of there. A harsh cold blast of air blew thru the room. He felt his hands curl in tight as if the blood had been suddenly sucked from them.

Illya reflexively pulled his hands back. He felt the edge of the iron cuffs catch on his knee. There was a loud clunk as the cuffs dropped to the floor. The Russian looked at his hands. He gave them a hard slap together and rubbed them vigorously to get the blood flowing again. Soon they were once again a healthy color and he had feeling in his fingers.

"Ah, thank you." he said pushing his hair back from his forehead as he stood up

He went to the door. Clear. The agent slipped from the tower and headed back down the stairs.

Carter saw the Russian heading across the courtyard. He grabbed a rifle and took off in pursuit. He could hear the screech of the birds as they circled the compound. As he started towards the door he shouted for the guards to circle around and cut the agent off.

Illya made a dash for the wall. He could see guards massing to the left. Then to the right and heading between them was Carter. The Russian swung himself onto the branch of a large tree near the outer wall and began to climb. Once at the top of the wall he began to carefully make his way across the battlements towards the gatehouse.

There was a loud screeching sound and one of the hawks came dangerously close to his head. Bullets ricocheted off the walls close to him. He could see the guards, lined up firing squad style, their guns aimed directly towards him. Carter took aim.

"FIRE!" the THRUSH shouted.

The sounds of gunfire were deafening. Multiple rounds echoed through the walls and hallways of the massive fortress. Illya's back arched and he staggered against the great stones. The THRUSH lowered their weapons and watched as the agent stumbled, clutching at the great wall. Then he suddenly disappeared. Fallen through one of the large merlons along the wall.

Carter shouldered his weapon. He motioned for several of his men to search outside the wall. He wanted a body this time. No slip-ups.

Illya lay as flat as he could and crawled towards the gatehouse. In the open door, he sat up and caught his breath. Then something caught his attention.

In one section of the tower was a remote console of some sort. He noticed that a map of the castles topography lay next to a control switch. Hanging behind the console was a heavy duty jumpsuit, similar to the radiation suites he had see scientist wear. As a precaution he quickly put on the suite and went back to the console.

Kuryakin switched on the console. A low hum filled the tower. The panel lights gradually changed from red to green, usually a sign that everything was ready. He slowly turned the large knob on the panel and a soft hissing sound came to his ears. He looked all around the room then he cautiously moved to the window.

From various points around the grounds, a soft almost fog like substance filled the air. Not heavy like rain but a gentle almost undetectable mist. A Mist? Stay out of the mist, he heard Napoleon's voice say. Kuryakin stepped back.

As the mist fell in the court yard, something began to happen to the birds. He could see them suddenly swoop down in the unsuspecting THRUSH men. The birds were in some sort of frenzy. They came at the men from every direction, pecking, clawing; the hawk's mighty wings pounding the air, the ravens tearing at the cloth uniforms.

Illya looked out and saw Carter fighting frantically to get the birds away from him. He turned and ran back inside the tower, but the birds followed.

Carter heard the screeching, felt the sharp claws tearing at his skin as he ran confused and panic-stricken up the winding steps. He swatted at the birds trying to knock them away or knock them out. He swung out with the rifle, but the talons and beaks pecked and tore at his hands. He dropped the weapon and continued to run up, higher and higher until he ran into the large wooden door.

The THRUSH agent shoved the door open with ease and made his way into the room. But for some reason he couldn't get it to close. The largest of the hawks and several of the free-flying ravens forced him back from the doorway as they flew into the small turret. Carter made a move towards the door again only to have it shut tight in front of him. His agonizing screams could be heard throughout the tower. Then all was quiet.

Greenbaum heard the cries and tried to find out where they were coming from. Several of the remaining guards had deserted their post and were running thru the halls looking for the nearest exit. Many of them, upon seeing Solo in the hallway, panicked even more. The THUSH fired off several warning shots to get his men back under control. The panic began to subside.

"What the hell is the matter with you all?" he shouted at the top of his lungs, "You are trained THRUSH men…."

He saw one try to hide his face. Greenbaum pushed his way through the men and walked over to the one guard. He reached up and lifted the beret shielding the man's face. Solo smiled.

"Except you...Hello Mr. Solo," Greenbaum said.

Two of the others grabbed Solo's arms firmly. Greenbaum shook his head and motioned for them to follow him.

"You don't really think you are going to succeed in your little scheme, do you Greenbaum?" Solo said.

Greenbaum looked back at him. How could Solo possibly know what THRUSH was doing.

"Control of the satellite systems, blacking out communications, taking control of major capitals. THRUSH has tried that before you know."

"Without a doubt, Solo," the THRUSH said, "But we have something now we didn't have before. The perfect location, stable, strategic, and once we have finished our own modifications, totally impenetrable."

Raven stepped out into the hallway. She was cool as she watched them coming down the stairs with Solo in tow. He saw the determined expression on her face. Face it Napoleon, he thought to himself, she will always be a THRUSH first and foremost.

"Why the birds?" Solo asked.

"The mist we saturated the area with causes them to go into an attack frenzy," Greenbaum said, "We used it to great success to get rid of the tourist, the Tower personnel and several U.N.C.L.E. agents. The mist is so light you can't even tell it has fallen on you, but one small whiff and….." Greenbaum made a swooping motion with his arm. "And they don't stop until their prey has."

"And you…?" Solo said looking at the woman.

"I do what THRUSH tells me to do," she said, staring straight ahead as they continued down the stairs.

"Just like a good THRUSH should," Greenbaum said giving her a firm slap on the backside.

They made their way to the dungeon. Solo could still see Tomlinson's body in the iron cage above them. He swallowed the knot in his throat. Napoleon watched Greenbaum walk over to the rack of whips. He selected one and walked back holding it out to Raven.

"I assume you know how to use this?" he said to the woman.

Solo tried to hide his smile as she took the leather whip in her hand. She gave it a sharp snap.

Greenbaum looked at the U.N.C.L.E. agent.

"This is torture, Mr. Solo," Greenbaum said, "You're not supposed to enjoy it!"

Napoleon saw a blush cross the woman's cheek.

The guards forcefully removed Solo's jacket and shirt. They secured the manacles around his wrist and pulled them taunt above his head. Raven looked at him. She felt her body flash hot as she remembered their "interrogation" in the tower. She shook the memory off and held the whip tight in her hand.

Solo bit his lip and closed his eyes at the first strike. He blinked a couple of times and tried to block the sting. He heard the snap and once more felt the sting of the leather. Napoleon felt his eyes water from the pain, but he was not going to let the THRUSH see it.

The door to the dungeon opened and a guard staggered in. His uniform ripped as if he had been on the losing end of a knife fight. His face lined with small but deep rows of cuts. He made his way towards Greenbaum.

"Sir," the man managed to say saluting, "The firing squad got Kuryakin and he went over the wall…But.."

"But…What?"

"We still haven't found his body," the man said, "Also….Something triggered the mist canon…" He motioned to himself. "The birds attacked us..Carter was being chased by about five of them back inside the tower…."

The man dropped to the floor dead.

"Something?!...Someone is more the case," Greenbaum shouted, "You men come with me, no-one got Kuryakin. Only someone could have started the canons..I'll take care of this myself."

The guards started towards the door. Greenbaum stopped one and took his pistol. He walked back Raven and handed her the gun.

"I want him dead when I come back," he said in a dark tone, "Otherwise your time with THRUSH is over do you understand that?"

She nodded at her boss. He turned and left.

Raven walked over and slipped the whip back on the rack. For a moment she stood there looking down at the gun in her hand. Napoleon looked at her.

"Is Raven your real name?"

"What?...No, it's just a name they started calling me for fun.. They said I had a personality as dark as my hair…."

"Nevermore," Solo said quietly.

"Exactly, a dark soul as well."

She turned and looked at him. The woman reached up and removed the pins from her hair once more, letting the silky wave fall to her shoulders. She saw Solo smile.

"I don't believe you have a dark soul," he said cringing as his back began to sting, "As a matter of fact, like that, you look….very peaceful…your eyes are dark but like the calm of a clear evening sky..Quite a serene picture actually…. What? Did I say something funny?"

"You have quite a good perception on people and human nature, Mr. Solo."

Napoleon saw her laugh softly as she walked over to him. She walked in front of him, her hand gently brushed against his cheek. She kissed him. If he was going to die by her hand, this was the best way to go.

"How did you know your partner would have the sword for defense?"

"I didn't," Solo replied, "I caught a quick glimpse of him through the windows with what looked like a sword so I took the chance."

"And Kuryakin, how did he know about the blood pack?" she asked.

"While we were holding off the first small squad I managed to give him a signal. Luckily he wasn't too distracted and picked up on it immediately. It almost came out when he drew the sword back. I had to grab it to hold in place. When I pressed my hand against it in poured out thru my fingers like real blood. I saw the look on your face when you thought….."

Napoleon felt the cold hard steel barrel press into the base of his neck. He arched his body slightly. He had caused her to drop her guard again. She knew what she had to do.

"Do you have any last words, Mr. Solo?"

"I thought women always had to have the last word," he said to her.

He heard the gun click as the hammer was pulled back. He swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat. The agent glanced towards the door. Where the hell was Kuryakin? He should have made his customary "On-time-to-save-the-day" entrance by now. The iron cuffs holding his hands above his head were beginning to cut into his wrist.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she hissed, pressing against him.

"You said the same thing yesterday, or at least I think it was yesterday," Solo said leaning his head back to look at her, "Although I must admit I enjoyed that much better than this."

Napoleon felt the barrel of the gun strike the back of his head. His eyes crossed briefly and he gave his head a slight shake to try and stop the stinging. She stepped back in front of him. Then he felt a soft hand slid around to the back of his head and gently rub the sore spot. He felt the woman drape her arms across his shoulders and she laid her face against his chest.

"You fool," she said almost in tears, "You great big irresistible fool. Why did you have to be so wonderful?"

Solo smiled. He heard a commotion outside. It's about time he thought. The door opened. But it wasn't Kuryakin. He watched as Greenbaum stormed in. They hadn't found his partner. Solo saw him grab the woman and throw her hard against the wall.

"I knew I couldn't count on you," Greenbaum shouted as he picked up the gun.

Several shots rang out. Napoleon slowly opened his eyes. Greenbaum lay dead in the floor, the woman was unconscious. Illya Kuryakin stepped up to his partner and smiled.

"Sorry I'm late," Kuryakin said, "Couldn't find a parking space!"

He lowered the manacles and turned the key to unlock them. Napoleon stumbled to regain his footing.

"As long as it took, I'm surprised you didn't come on the bus," Solo said.

Napoleon walked over to the woman and carefully sat her up. He gently tapped her cheeks with the back of his hands. Her head flopped to the side and her eyes began to flutter. She looked up into his smiling face.

"Napoleon?" she said slowly.

"That would be me," he said.

He stood up slowly, helping her back to her feet. She weaved a bit holding onto him for support. The woman ran her hand through her hair. Solo looked at her. He saw a small trickle of blood on the side of her neck. Upon closer inspection he saw a cut on her head from where she had hit the wall.

"We need to get that taken care of," he said.

With Illya's help they got the woman out and into the waiting car. Then it was off to U.N.C.L.E. Northeast headquarters London office. While Solo watched over Raven, Illya went for a stroll around the city. His mind was filled with memories both good and bad of his earlier time at this branch of U.N.C.L.E. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and headed back.

_**A few hours later**_.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin kicked back in the corner booth of the small bar in their hotel. They were both in desperate need of a drink. Solo to relax, Kuryakin to forget.

"He actually asked me if I wanted to transfer back," Illya said shaking his head. He took a drink.

"I guess he would… You're an excellent agent, Illya. Beldon asked me to transfer as well," Solo said smiling.

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing even close to what I wanted to tell him," Solo said, "Five good men dead. For no reason other than his over-bearing arrogance. Sent into a mission totally unprepared…Work for him, HA, I would leave U.N.C.L.E. first….."

"Forget Beldon," Illya said, "We have Waverly behind us." He raised his glass. "To Mr. Alexander Waverly the best U.N.C.L.E. Chief in the world."

Napoleon repeated the toast. The men were just about to take a drink when something caught their attention at the doorway of the lounge.

They watched the woman walk in, as if everything had gone into slow motion. Tall, shapely, her form fitting evening gown shimmered in the low lights of the bar. Stopping just at the knee it was split up one side and left very little to the imagination. And Napoleon Solo had a very vivid imagination. They saw her adjust the long, snow white ermine wrap about her bare shoulders. She looked at them and smiled as she came closer.

"Just room for two?" she said in a low seductive tone.

Napoleon was on his feet.

"He was just leaving," he said motioning to Kuryakin.

The woman smiled and turned to look at the Russian. Illya resigned himself and stood up, offering his seat to her. As she sat, their eyes met and the startled agent did a double take. He smiled as she pushed her black hair back slightly.

"What's the matter Agent Kuryakin?" she said, "You look as if you've never seen a woman before."

"Raven?" the stunned Russian said.

Illya looked at Napoleon.

"Almost makes you want to join THRUSH!" the Russian said a hint of laughter in his voice.

Kuryakin took her hand and kissed the top of it.

"Actually, I do not go by that name anymore," she said, "My real name is much more fitting."

She looked at Solo and smiled.

"I told you that uniform didn't suit you," Napoleon said taking his seat once more.

She laughed softly as his hand gently brushed her shoulder. She felt his fingers softly push her silky hair back from her neck. He moved a bit closer.

Illya turned and walked over to the other end of the bar. He glanced at his watch. Still three hours before their plane left. He made a heavy sigh.

"Poor Illya," Napoleon said, pressing his face tenderly against her neck.

Serena looked towards the bar. A smile crossed her face.

"I wouldn't exactly say "poor" Illya," she said giving her head a nod.

Napoleon turned and looked at his partner.

Illya was standing at the bar, a beautiful blond now sitting next to him, playfully tugging at his jacket sleeve as they talked. A tall brunette was standing behind him, her one hand on his shoulder, the other gently playing with his hair. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. One of those rare smiles crossed the Russian's lips and he turned, taking a woman on each arm and walked out of the bar.

Solo's jaw dropped open. He felt a pair of soft fingers clip his chin and turn his face into a passionate kiss.

"Don't worry about Illya," she whispered, her teeth gently nipping at his bottom lip.

"Illya who?" Solo sighed with a smiled.


End file.
